


The Hummel Quest Tales: Arty

by artytales (artyrambles)



Category: Hummel Quest, World of Tanks
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, sentient tanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2408258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artyrambles/pseuds/artytales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot happened before Arty joined the tanking league, and this story will shed light on some of those events.<br/>[These stories are a series of bits and pieces of background stories for the characters of my main story (The Hummel Quest), so they won't make a lot of sense on their own.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> In this story I also elaborate on the setting of the Hummelverse a bit, aka how the tanks are made and how their early lives usually go. At least in post-apocalyptic tank!Germany.

The factory was a scary place. The Leichttraktor had just woken up, and the very first emotion that she had felt was confusion. All around her there was noise, a big machine working as if it had a life of its own. She felt cold shivers run through her chassis and tried to find her way out. No one else seemed to be here, but when she finally found an exit, she was taken aback by the outside world that presented itself to her. Burnt down and crumbled buildings framed the scenery on one side, wide open planes the other one. The sky was of a grey-ish blue color, and there were no clouds. It looked…bleak. She didn't know what else to do, and she felt lonely and lost, but also didn't dare to venture any further into this strange and alien world. Therefore, she stayed where she was, half hiding behind the factory's open doors. Was no one here? Did she even want to be found? She had no other choice than to wait and see what would happen.

A churning feeling of emptiness in her fuel tanks had eventually driven her to go out and explore this place. A bunch of birds fleeing from her startled her so much that she fired her cannon at them, then marveled at her own deed. She hadn't been aware that she could do that. Looking at a broken window that she had just destroyed by accident, she felt a bit more confident now. If she found something scary, she would do this again.

She started following a path of sorts, the only kind of reference point she could see in this dry wasteland. Her treads kicked up dust as she advanced until she could see smoke in the distance.

Her curiosity won against her anxiousness and as she got closer, she started recognizing shapes that seemed to have gathered around a campfire of sorts. So there were others like her? All of them were Leichttraktors as well. She felt a bit of excitement as she saw them turn around until all of them were looking at her. Maybe they could help her and explain to her what she was doing here? They watched her approach, and as she reached the group, one of them drove over to her. Something told her that he was their leader. Before she could say anything, the other tank started speaking.

"What's your name?" he asked her and the little Leichttraktor looked to the ground.  
"I don't know" she replied. He nodded briefly and gestured at the other Leichttraktors that were standing behind him and looking at her curiously. "You're the fifteenth tank, so we will call you Fifteen for now. I'm One, the commander, and I'll introduce you to the others later." He turned back to her.  
"What class do you want to be?" he continued with another question. Again she didn't know the answer, but felt pressured to say something.  
"I…want to be a light" she said quietly. It was the only class she actually knew.  
"Alright, you will stay with us" the commander eventually said after thinking about it for a moment. "From now on I'm your commander. You will learn how to fight and how to kill. You must be loyal and never run away or hurt a team mate. Do you understand?"  
Despite having never heard these terms before, she intuitively knew what they meant and quickly nodded. "Understood, commander."


	2. The Matchmakers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this chapter didn't have a title, but I realized that the Matchmakers are kind of a really important story element even though they are only mentioned rather briefly, so I decided that I'm gonna dedicate this chapter to them and changed the title here.

None of them talked a lot. As promised, the commander had shown her who was who, but it had taken Fifteen a while until she had realized that an easy way to tell them apart was looking at the serial numbers at their sides. Which added a whole new layer of complication to it. She didn't know why they wouldn't just go by their serial numbers as names, but didn't voice that question and instead just accepted it, instead trying to associate the numbers to each other. From what she had understood the names were only temporary anyway. The introductions themselves had been very short – with only such a short time of being awake, no one really knew how to describe themselves yet. Now, a hollow silence had come down over the makeshift camp again as everyone dwelled on their own thoughts. It seemed like they were waiting for something, but no one appeared really enthusiastic about it, if they even knew what it was. The uneasy suspense the Leichttraktor felt soon became uneasy boredom, and she had started staring at the flat horizon in search of anything that would break this monotony.

She had noticed some movement there before, but only as she took a closer look she realized that those far away moving shapes wasn't just dust that the wind swirled up. She could have sworn that she saw the gleam of metal against the setting sun. Feeling alarmed, she shifted over to One and nudged him.  
"What's that over there?" she asked and pointed at one of the shapes. The other Leichttraktor followed her gaze but remained perfectly calm.  
"It's the Matchmakers" he said.  
"The Matchmakers?" Fifteen frowned.  
One made a non-committal noise. "It's what they call themselves. I don't know why. Maybe it will make sense one day."

Fifteen fell silent for a moment and watched the clouds of dust in the distance thoughtfully. "Why won't they talk to us?" she asked.  
One pushed another log into the fire. "They are only guarding the factory and making sure that we get fuel until we can leave with a full team. Sometimes they make teams leave even if they aren't complete yet, if it takes too long" he explained.  
The light tilted her cannon. "How do you know all these things?" she asked eventually. The question had been on her mind for a while now. One shrugged.  
"I was the first, so they came to me and told me these things. They also told me that I should not call myself a leader, but as the others started leaving mother they just started calling me that, so I rolled with it. I guess you are what fate makes you." He shrugged again.  
Fifteen didn't know if she agreed with his last sentence, but she would have had to think about it more to hold any kind of in-depth discussion about it.

One of the dust clouds suddenly started approaching them. A massive tank appeared in it as it got closer to them. Fifteen watched it in awe, but she did not feel fear this time. It halted in front of them and spoke to them with a female voice.

"The time has come" the stranger said, "You will have to leave tomorrow morning. Try to find a tank recovery vehicle, they are rare but they can repair you and help you with tiering up."  
One nodded. "How will we recognize them?"  
"You will know them when you see them."  
Again, the Leichttraktor nodded. "Thank you for your hospitality" he said with his cannon lowered slightly.  
The stranger turned to leave. "It was my duty. Good luck on your journey" she said and drove off again.


	3. Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering, I couldn't find a good tank equivalent for elbowing so I just went ahead and repurposed the word "fending" as a word for the act of a tank using its fenders to push through a crowd.

The small depot was brimming with life and activity. Light tanks were scurrying about, curiously inspecting the myriad of parts and armament that the shelves and crates around them were filled with.  
"What a sweet engine…Eight, look!" a Pz.I C said and nudged his neighbor with his cannon to get her attention. She laughed and shook her turret.  
"You can't even mount that!"  
"Well, I won't be a Pz.I forever, will I?" he gave back indignantly.  
A loud crash followed by the noise of all kinds of metal parts tumbling to the ground made both of them flinch and turn around.

"Sorry! Oh God, I'm so sorry!"  
A Pz.II was buried under a heap of tracks and road wheels as well as the shelf they had fallen down from, and she apologized over and over as the workshop's owner and one of the low tier's team mates tried to free her.  
"Grace did it again" the Pz.I C sighed and Eight snickered.  
"She's so clumsy."  
Most of the others soon returned to doing what they had been doing before, with only a couple of them curiously watching the struggle.  
The E100 that was running this workshop towered over the other tanks easily. He had re-erected the fallen shelf and lifted a track off the Pz.II's hull with his cannon to put it back into its original place.

"What were you doing back there? The parts for medium and light tanks are all over here" he asked. His voice was so deep that it was even hard to make out how exactly he was feeling about this accident and its cause. Grace apologized again miserably, and the Pz.35t – Fifteen – by her side gave an awkward shrug. "We just wanted to see the cannons" she explained tentatively and brushed a small wheel off her team mate's engine deck.  
"Don't just throw those on the floor" the E100 said.  
"S-Sorry" Fifteen mumbled, a small embarrassed puff of air escaping from her vents. Unsure how else she could help, she stopped doing anything altogether.  
"Those cannons are high caliber. Nothing for you" the owner went on, "The ones you'll want to check out are all on that shelf over there."

The Pz.35t looked over to the shelf the heavy tank was pointing at and nodded sheepishly. "Thank you."

It took a little longer and the help of a TRV that had arrived in the meantime until Grace was free again, but as soon as she was the two low tiers quickly zipped off. They made their way straight to the shelves they had been told to go to. Fifteen went first, fending her way past her team mates. Her friend suddenly braked.  
"Hey look…!" she said and the Pz.35t turned around. Her gaze fell on a couple of turrets that were placed on crates. Without the cannons, they looked rather odd.  
"I think that's Panzer IV turrets" Grace mused and Fifteen nodded thoughtfully.  
"I can't wait to be one" the Pz.35t said with a smile. "Do you think they're strong?"  
"I only heard good things about them" another voice added. Their commander had appeared behind them. Apparently he had finished haggling with the workshop's merchant.

There was a moment of expectant silence before Fifteen finally asked what was on both hers and Grace's mind.  
"How did it go?"  
The commander grinned. "They'll upgrade two of us."  
"Oh? Who?" Fifteen asked, wiggling on her tracks curiously.

Instead of saying it right away, One made a long, suspenseful pause before answering.  
"Twelve. And…you."  
Fifteen held back a surprised gasp and nodded quickly. "Thank you!" she said with a happy smile. Grace smiled as well; she herself – like a couple of other tanks on their team - was a tier three already and happy for her friend.  
"Are you ready? They're already waiting for you" the commander went on, and Fifteen nodded again eagerly.


	4. The Bison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while since I updated this story, huh? Well, I had some time at work today and this was the result. I'm glad that I finally got around writing it since we're actually getting close to the planned end of the story already.

‘ _I need to talk to you_ ’ the commander had told her. Fifteen had a bad feeling in her metal guts as she made her way to his tent. She knew that her performance in battle had been subpar lately. She also knew that the others had noticed. But being a Panzer IV was just terrible to her. She had been a decent, maybe even good scout, but being a medium tank was hell to her. It was nothing like she had been promised.

Concord – that was the new name of their commander – was waiting for her already when she entered the tent. He bowed his cannon.  
“Thank you for coming” he said sternly. Fifteen nodded jerkily. Her nervousness suddenly acted up more than she would have expected it to. She was picturing the worst of news already – maybe he was going to kick her now.

“Do you know why I want to talk to you?” Concord asked.

The Panzer IV started fidgeting.  
“I…think” she replied.

Concord nodded, his expression still serious. If he noticed how nervous she was, he had the mercy not to show it.  
“You were a good scout,” he conceded, “But I’ve been told that the others regularly have to save you now.”  
Fifteen dropped her gaze with a nod.  
“I just…” she started saying, but had to start over. “I freeze up. I don’t know why.”  
“I know” the commander said.

Now she was shaking. The following pause was excruciatingly long. When Concord spoke again, she held her breath.

“I decided that it would be best for you to move to the back lines. From there you could support us better.”  
Fifteen was so glad that the hadn’t told her to just leave that her nod came out more frantic than intended.  
“You could either switch to a tank destroyer or try artillery” he continued.  
The medium gave him a blank look.  
“I informed myself a little…a tank destroyer that you could be instead would be the Panzerjäger I. It has little armour but a powerful gun. You could stay in the back and pick off targets that are distracted.

Fifteen tilted her cannon thoughtfully.  
“And artillery?” she asked. She had heard the term before but couldn’t say that she knew anything about it.  
“Artillery is…different. They’re not like us.” Concord said, “Artillery sights see farther, and their cannons shoot indirectly. It’s a big responsibility, since people are going to rely on your support.”

Fifteen’s expression turned from attentive to skeptical.  
“What’s the catch?” she asked.  
“In turn you’re going to be dependent on them. You will be slow and fragile, unfit for close quarters combat. Basically, if an enemy finds you, chances are you’ll die, unless he acts stupid and lets you shoot him.”  
“I see” Fifteen said pensively. “Can I have some time to think about it?”  
“Of course” the commander replied, “Once you’ve made up your mind, just tell me, and we’ll look for a workshop.” He smiled at her for the first time during the conversation. “I think you’ll be a great help for us that way.” he said.

The Panzer IV bowed her cannon multiple times. She could hardly express how grateful she was for the good will.  
“Thank you so much” she said.

Concord continued to smile at her.  
“I’m sure we’ll manage to fix this.” he said.  
Fifteen nodded, then gave him a questioning look.  
“Anything else…?” she asked, with slight worry in her voice.  
The commander shook his turret,  
“Not right now, no.” he replied.

Fifteen bowed again and left the tent.

Grace drove a little circle around the Bison. Her tracks left marks around the other tank on the soft ground.  
“Looks good!” she said.  
Fifteen wobbled on her tracks. Everything was new and unfamiliar. She had stalled her new engine two times already, and the whole compact form of her new body was weird. Not to mention that being so slow all of a sudden was a huge change she’d have to get used to. As a light and a medium tank, her speed had been her forte, but now?

She remembered the words of the commander.  
“You’ll have to spot targets for me” she said to the other tank.  
Grace nodded dutifully.  
“I’m gonna miss rescuing you” the Luchs teased.  
Fifteen mumbled a small “Not funny…”, but then added, “Maybe you’ll have to do that anyway.” Her expression changed to a curious one. “So how does this work?” she mused, squinting at herself.

Grace shrugged.  
“What?” she asked.  
“The artillery sights!” Fifteen said.  
The Luchs could only shrug again.  
“How am I supposed to know?”

Fifteen planted herself on her suspension and looked up.  
“Hmm….not working” she mumbled.  
“What do you see?” Grace asked.  
“The clouds.” Fifteen replied deadpan.  
“Maybe try your gun sights?”  
“O-Oh.”

The SPG tried, and instead of the normal scope, she suddenly saw a – very blurry – view of the surrounding area. The soft hills, the trees, even the bushes and the little stream nearby. As she moved her gun, she could shift the view, and if she held still and focused, it grew less blurry.

“This is so cool” she said, and heard Grace’s voice ask her “What?? Is it working??”

Fifteen switched back to her normal sights and grinned at the other tank.  
“Yeah” she said, “I can see everything!”  
“Cool…” Grace whistled. Her optics started shining as she jumped onto a new train of thought. “Try out your gun!” she said excitedly.  
The Bison nodded, sharing the excitement.

She switched to her special sights again and aimed at a spot a couple hundred meters away.

As she fired, the boom was more deafening that what she was used to…in fact the loudest gun sound she had ever heard. And then there was the impact. They felt the shockwave even despite the distance. The explosion could be seen clearly; a ball of fire, and dirt and rocks flying everywhere.

“…wow” Grace commented quietly.  
Fifteen was still staring at the spot where the shell had detonated. The recoil had felt like it was going to throw her off her tracks.  
“Indeed…” she said, her voice just as baffled as Grace’s.

The Luchs was the first to snap out of it.  
“Now we can only win!” she shouted with excitement, “You’re so powerful now!”  
Fifteen smiled a befuddled smile. She checked the crater the shell had torn into the ground with her artillery sights. It looked stunning. A tank that would have stood there would have taken serious damage…if it hadn’t blown up right on the spot.

Such was the power of a 15cm cannon.


	5. Arty

It had hardly been a fair fight. Even though she knew that she alone couldn't have saved the battle, the Bison still couldn't help but feel at least partly responsible for the disaster. Their commander tried his best to negotiate with the much stronger enemy team, although it could already be considered generous that they hadn't killed them all right away.

"We want your artillery" she overheard one of the other tanks say and huddled up closer to her friend. "If you give her to us, we'll let the rest of you go."

The Bison ducked her cannon. She didn’t want to go with these people. But she also didn’t want her team to be killed because of her. She could understand that they would rather give her away, and she had no other option than to accept this. They all knew that this was just courtesy. The other team could just kill them anyway and take Fifteen with them afterwards. But like this there was the illusion that this wasn’t just a kidnapping. It was a trade, not fair but legitimate. If she left them after joining the team like this, she would be a traitor.

The decision was predictable, and the Bison was made to drive forward and over to the other team. Said other team saluted, and curtly thanked her team for their cooperation. They waited until Fifteen’s old team left; then a S35 CA drove up to her.

“Welcome to our team” he said sternly, but then turned away without any further words to her.  
“Let’s move on!” he said to the others and the team set itself into motion. Fifteen was bumped into and had no other choice but to follow them.

xxx

In the following months, the Bison learned that not all teams were friendly and supportive. No one had asked for her name, instead they just called her ‘Arty’. It became clear very fast that they only cared about the fire support she was giving, not very much about her person. A lot of the time, no one talked to her, and some of them even seemed to dislike her, even though they did so quietly.

After matches, she usually got told a list of her failures, even if it was things she thought she had no control over. “You didn’t support me properly”, “You missed that tank at a crucial time”, “You need to cause more damage” were things she heard often. Her other team had been more forgiving, pointing out her mistakes in a constructive way and always making her feel like it was alright to make them. But this team had high expectations of her. When they told her what she did wrong, it sounded like accusations. She started feeling inadequate quickly. It didn’t help that they sometimes said that if she didn’t improve, they’d go and find another arty that could do the job.

“Then just go and do that” she sullenly mumbled to herself as she sat over her fuel, with no one around to hear it. The only positive thing about this team was that not all of them were like that. A handful of them was nice to her, even though she just couldn’t form a proper bound with anyone. She couldn’t make a friend like Grace had been. It was all very shallow.

Despite Arty’s perceived incompetence, they were successful in their battles though. Except for this time. This time it had gone awfully bad. The battle they had had just earlier had been a disaster. The team had been rather decimated. It was easy to guess who was to blame – the artillery of course.

Nevermind that from her perspective, it had looked like everyone had collectively forgotten how to tank at the same time. She didn’t want to feel like she was responsible, but there were especially two tanks who were really adamant about holding her at fault for the defeat. The Stuart and the M7. She would find that out in a moment.

“Hey” the M5 said as he approached her from her blind spot, “Good job today. Really good job.”  
Arty could tell at once that he was being sarcastic.  
“Another performance like that, Arty, and we’ll all be dead!” the M7 added.

Those two were probably the ones who disliked her the most. They had never said anything that would have indicated it before, or rather, not to her. She had overheard them talk to their team leaders, demanding that she was kicked in favour of a “proper” tank. It was new that they would bother her. The defeat must have been the last straw.

“What do you have to say in your defence?” the Stuart asked, and they were both in Arty’s blind spot still. It made her uncomfortable, so she turned around to face them. She didn’t know what to say, though and just stared at the ground.  
“Nothing? Thought so” the Stuart went on, “What were you doing when the Churchill almost killed me?”  
Arty defensively lowered her cannon.

“You drove out too f-“ she began to say, but the Stuart cut her off by shooting the ground next to her.  
“Don’t tell me how to do my job!” He drove forward and circled her, and she didn’t even try to keep up with turning. She wouldn’t lower herself down to dance for him.  
“You’re not a light tank, what do you know? You’re just stupid arty, you never even move.”

“He’s right” the M7 said, “You know nothing about where to go and how far. You only sit in the back like a coward.” He chuckled suddenly. “Did you become arty because you’re no good as other tanks? I bet that’s the reason.”  
The Stuart drove another circle around the Bison and fired at the ground around her. She flinched at every impact, fearing that he could really go ahead and shoot her even though it was forbidden.  
“She’s no good now either!” he said.

The light tank finally stopped circling her and drove up to the M7’s side again.  
“You’re so lucky we didn’t kick you out! If I was the boss, you’d be gone now!” the Stuart said, “Maybe you should just leave, you know.” He shared a look with the M7 and nodded.  
“Anyway, see you later. Maybe.” he said and the two of them drove off.

xxx

After that incident, they made it a habit to tease her. Whenever they got bored it seemed, they would go and annoy Arty. She was such a good target too, getting upset at them when they did it. No one in the team even seemed to care. The S35 had told them once to stop, and they had listened, but not for long, and he had never done anything about it again. Arty had upgraded to a Sturmpanzer II in the meantime, and that gave them even more fuel to bother her. They were of the opinion that she hadn’t deserved the upgrade. They also never got tired of reminding her that she wasn’t as good of a fighter as she should be. Two years had gone by and the SPG was sick and tired of it, but didn’t know what to do to make them stop.

As it was one of those times again, she didn’t know yet that it would change her life drastically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is where the story ends...it directly is continued in the chapter of the same title in the main story!


End file.
